


Beside Me

by Zimra



Series: Ai Atalantë [2]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 08:34:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/684954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zimra/pseuds/Zimra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pharazon and Miriel as kids in Numenor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beside Me

“Pharazon?”

He looked and saw her peering around the line of tall, well-groomed shrubs that shielded the stone bench from the rest of the garden. Pharazon wiped his eyes hurriedly on his sleeve, turning his face away so that she would not see. 

“What’s wrong?” His cousin hopped up on the bench beside him, not bothering to wait for an invitation to do so. A small part of him resented her for it, the way she never thought twice about intruding on other people’s solitary moments. Just because she was the King’s Heir didn’t mean she had the right to know everything that everyone was thinking all the time. But despite himself he was glad to see her, and the concerned look on her face was all it took to prompt him to tell her everything.

“My father is out of favor with the king again,” he said glumly, scratching at the surface of the bench with a pebble he’d picked up from the gravel path. It left an unsightly mark on the bench’s intricate carvings. 

Miriel gently took the pebble out of his hand. “Do you know what happened?”

“No,” he replied, still refusing to meet her eyes. “Father got home from the Council this morning and shouted at me. He told me I might as well start packing, because His Majesty is sure to have banished us both from the capitol by this time tomorrow.”

“He won’t do that!” Miriel insisted. “He never does. They always fight, and it always blows over before too long.”

“Last time they didn’t speak to each other for a month,” Pharazon reminded her, his young face grim. “What if this is the last straw? What if he does banish us? He’s already sent away a few of my father’s supporters.”

Miriel swung her legs back and forth, staring out across the expanse of the palace gardens. Though she was a full year older than Pharazon, she was quite small, even frail, and her feet barely skimmed the grass below. Finally she said, “But you’re family; it’s different. And he’d never banish you, no matter how angry he was at Gimilkhad. You know he doesn’t hold you responsible for your father’s actions. Besides,” she said, elbowing him playfully in the side, “I wouldn’t let him.”

Pharazon snorted, elbowing her in return. “Tar-Palantir doesn’t take orders from a child, even if she is his daughter.”

“That’s what you think,” she replied serenely, her bearing suddenly as regal and queenly as she could make it. After a second, she relaxed again and grinned at him. “Don’t worry, Pharazon. You’ll never have to leave the palace, I promise.”

He remembered all the times his father had told him to stay away from Miriel, that she would take everything he told her and report it to Tar-Palantir. He thought about Gimilkhad ranting that women shouldn’t be allowed to rule, that Pharazon should be the heir so that he could help their nation recover from the current king’s archaic policies. 

But looking at the tiny, dark-haired girl beside him, he couldn’t bring himself to heed his father’s words. Miriel had that effect on people, drawing them to her with her charming smile and calming voice and her willingness to listen to the troubles of others. 

“What if I want to leave?” he asked. She looked taken aback, so he hastened to assure her, “Not now! Just…I don’t want to be like my father. I don’t want to live in the king’s shadow. I want to make something of myself.”

“Really?” Miriel sounded relieved. “That’s easy. Tell the king you wish to become a knight. When you’re old enough he’ll find the best possible training for you, you can be sure of that. My father likes you, you know,” she said, turning her earnest gaze upon him. “He says you have promise.”

“He does?” 

“Of course,” she answered. “And when I am queen, and you are the greatest knight in Numenor, you’ll certainly be welcome here. There will always be a place of honor for you at my side, cousin.”

He smiled despite himself, letting her heartfelt pronouncement and earnest silver eyes soothe his shattered nerves. “Thank you.”

It didn’t matter what his father said. Miriel, at least, truly cared about him, and right now nothing was more important than that.

**Author's Note:**

> I realized recently that I messed up the timeline, which means this story is not technically canon. They're supposed to be quite young here, so their grandfather Ar-Gimilzor (who favored Gimilkhad, not Palantir) should still be the king of Numenor. But I don't want to change this story, because I still think this is a good depiction of how I view their early relationship. I will try to write something more in line with canon for them eventually.


End file.
